My True Love Gadge to Me
by Melika Elena
Summary: The Twelve Days of Christmas: Gadge style. Expect copious amounts of fluff, puns, and interfering family members and friends. You've been warned.
1. Christmas Tree and Hanukkah

_**Day One:** Christmas Tree AND Hanukkah_

Christmas would be Gale's favorite time of year even without the presents– hell, the presents were about the last things he was concerned with (at least when it came to himself– now, when it came to shopping for his siblings or his parents, well, that's when it became more than a little concerning.) He loved everything about it– Christmas fell during the time of year when winter was still new and bright, crisp and fresh, as opposed to the dreary grey and mush of later months. He thrived in this weather; he felt heavy and oppressed in the muggy summers, but under heavy coats and thick boots he came alive. Nature wasn't dead, but quiet, peaceful, and Gale loved walking around the woods near his house in the powdered snow. He could think clearly out there.

And then the holiday itself– his Ma's best food, digging out all of the old family recipes that, he loved helping her with (out of all of her children, he was the only one with the talent, temperament, and inclination to enjoy cooking and learning the treasured recipes); decorating the house so it smelled like spices and pine, with the wreaths his dad and Vick would painstakingly carve and craft and the potpourri and dried flowers that Posy collected throughout the year. Gale, Rory, and their dad would go and get the tree and then, as a family, they would spend all day decorating. His family drove him nuts the majority of the time, but around Christmas the squabbles and fights from earlier in the year faded and softened with time. They all loved the holiday like he did.

There's one memory, really, a detail within a memory, that always stuck within Gale's mind– they got the tree from the Everdeen's Christmas Tree farm, which they always set up in the town square, and Gale and his dad (and Rory, when he was old enough) would each take an end of the tree and walk through town to get it home. Beyond being good exercise, it was a tradition, and since the tree they got was never so big or unwieldy, it wasn't a hardship.

Their walk included going by the Mayor's house, and every year, it seemed, since he was a little boy, he remembered seeing Madge Undersee's face in the window as she lit a candle on her menorah. Depending on the year, it could have been the first candle or the last, and he loved it when it was closer to the end, because more candles were lit and bathed her face in a warm glow, highlighting the sweet smile and wave she always gave him when she saw him. With his hands full, he could only give her a nod and a smile, but he always did, even when they were shy kids; when they were awkward, greasy teenagers, wary of the other gender; and now, as (mostly) mature college kids.

They weren't friends, really– they had overlapping friend groups, with many of their friends either dating (Thom and Delly; Bristel and Rye Mellark) or wanting to date (Katniss and Peeta), so they frequently hung out in the same group, more often than not spending the most time with each other out of default, and at first Gale was annoyed, but once he got to know Madge he saw, that under the designer clothes and shy, quiet demeanor, she was kind and insightful and sometimes (his favorite times) so damn snarky, with the driest, deadpan humor said with such a straight face that he couldn't help but crack up, to the bewilderment of their friends.

It wasn't until the summer before college, when they all hung out together as much as possible before their imminent separations, that Gale began to realize that maybe he too, was falling into the Want to Date category of their friend groups, and he really wanted to date _her._ But he never said anything– how could he? She never made any indication that she thought anything more than casual friendship for him, and their colleges were two hours apart.

And there were pretty girls at college, great girls, smart and nice and funny, but he still couldn't get Madge out of his mind, so he came back home for Christmas and he wondered if he would get to see her for more than just a wave as he walked by. He would feel out the situation– flirt (he was good at that, thank goodness,) and maybe, if she didn't seem repulsed, he would ask her out. Take a chance. He had a shitty truck and a good heart and they could give it a shot. He was willing to try if she was.

He and his dad and Rory walked down to the town square. It was crisp outside, frost and a light snow, perhaps an inch, crunching below their feet, frozen rather than soft. Rory was asking him about living in the city when Gale looked up, realized that they were at the Mayor's house–

and the menorah in the window was already lit, shining proudly in the window. Madge wasn't there.

It was such a stupid thing, but Gale felt his heart sink. He didn't know why, but it felt like a sign, not to mention that meant that he wouldn't see her on the way back; their little wordless, never spoken of tradition would be broken.

He didn't want to call it pouting, but he _was_ subdued as they went to town, and if his dad or Rory noticed it, they kindly didn't say anything. Maybe the tradition Gale thought was just between he and Madge was more obvious after all.

There weren't that many people at the Everdeen's Christmas Tree area when they get there– it's late in the afternoon and will be dark soon. The got off to a late start today. Gale spotted Branson Everdeen easily chatting with a customer, Primrose running around tagging trees, and her mother Alys manning the pay booth. Katniss was– talking to a blond boy, broad with blond curls, whose shoulders were hunched bashfully. Peeta Mellark. And at his side, blonde waves spilling out of a knit cap and down her thick coat, was Madge Undersee.

Gale couldn't almost believe his luck, but he startled at his father's hand clapping down on his shoulder. "Rory and I will go start looking," he said, "if you want to say hi to your friends." He winked, and walked off with Rory, who was already searching for Prim.

Katniss spotted him first. "Gale," she said, lips curving into a small, glad smile. She and Madge went to the same school, and he hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving.

"Hey, Catnip," he nodded, his own grin wide. And then, to the other two, "Peeta. Madge. It's good to see you both."

"You, too," Peeta said cheerfully. He and Gale were at the same college, too, and had shared a math class that semester. "How'd the rest of your finals turn out?"

"I did well, I think," Gale stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "A couple of them were just papers, so I finished up early. Got to come home a few days earlier."

"That's nice," Madge sighed, and Gale turned to her, trying not to seem too eager. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but her eyes were brightened by the white snow around her. "I had a take home that I just finished last night."

"Bummer," he agreed. Then, casually, "How are you, Madge?"

Madge beamed at him, and he felt taller than the Everdeen's biggest tree. "Great! It's so nice to be home, and, um," her eyes darted away for a moment before coming back to his, "there are so many holiday traditions that I love."

"I know what you mean," Gale said, trying to be brave without being too obvious, "and… my favorite one is the day I get the tree."

Madge looked at him shyly through her lashes. "Mine, too," she said, her voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "Every year I'm always afraid… that somehow I'll miss it."

Gale felt as though the world narrowed down, magnified, and he and Madge were the only ones left in it. It's like he's in the middle of the forest; everything was quiet. He knew, in the back of his mind, that somewhere his father was talking to Branson; that Rory was chasing Prim around the trees; that Peeta was flirting with Katniss; but none of that mattered now.

"Yeah?" He asked, hope buoying him up. "I thought… I thought I had missed today."

Madge bit her lip, looking distressed, unable to play coy. "I know," she said miserably, "I'm sorry. Peeta wanted to come here and talk to Katniss but he didn't want to come alone, just in case it didn't go well… and my mom wanted me to light the menorah before I left because I won't get home til after dark and you usually come around so much earlier in the day…"

"It worked out better this way," Gale said soothingly, unable to believe how smoothly the conversation was going. It was a goddamn Christmas/Hanukkah miracle. "We actually talked this time."

Madge brightened. "That's true," she said. "Just think, all these years and…" she flushed. "I never thought that what we did… that you thought of it just as much as I did."

Gale swallowed, but kept his eyes pinned to hers. "Maybe I didn't realize it until recently," he said, "but I can tell you I've been looking forward to this for… for several months now, at least. If not longer."

Her smile is soft and reminds him of the gentle candlelight of the candles on her menorah. "Yeah?" She asked, hopeful.

"Yeah," he said. And then, because he couldn't help it, because they didn't need to wait, not anymore, not for one more second, he asked, "Are you doing anything after this? Do you… maybe want to go get coffee or cocoa or something?"

Madge's smile grew into a wide grin. "I would l _ove_ that," she said emphatically.

The next year, they started a new tradition: Gale came over and helped her light the menorah, and then together, hand in hand, they walk to get a tree.


	2. Sick and Lonely&Alone

_**Day Two:** Sick AND Lonely/Alone_

"Come home with me."

Under any other circumstances, said in any other tone, Gale would've been thrilled to go home with Madge Undersee. It would indicate that she felt more than friendship for him and put him out of his effing misery. As it was, he was lying on his couch, covered in blankets and used tissues, blearily peering up at the blonde who was glaring down at him, arms crossed. She wasn't happy with him.

"Aw, Madge…" he whined. His nose was plugged up. He sounded like he was about five-years-old; it wasn't attractive at all. "I'm good here. Honest."

"Really," Madge said flatly. "Get up, right now, and walk over to the sink and get yourself a glass of water."

"I…" Gale sneezed. "I did earlier. I'm fine."

Madge looked at the coffee table, lined with tissue boxes, cold medicine, two empty bottles of powerade, and three empty water glasses, then beyond to the empty apartment, roommates long gone home for the holidays. It was a festering, contaminated wasteland, and Gale was dooming himself to be its only inhabitant.

"Uh-huh," Madge said. "You know you should be drinking at least 8 ounces an hour, right? To flush out your system?"

"I have been," Gale protested, "when I've been awake."

Madge made a huffing sound, and then wandered over to the kitchen, where Gale's flight itinerary was taped up. His flight should've been earlier that day; he was too sick to go home. It made her insides knot at the thought.

"You're my best friend; you're _not_ spending Christmas here by yourself," she said, turning back around with renewed determination. "Now, are you well enough to pack your things, or can you just direct me to what you need?"

"Madge," Gale protested, struggling to sit up. His hair was a mess and his nose was red. He was positively tangled in blankets. "You don't need to do this. I don't– you'll get sick, too. Or your parents. Or–"

"My aunt's a nurse," Madge said, "and I've already called my parents and told them. They basically told me I shouldn't come home without you. They're expecting you so don't be rude."

After being raised by Hazelle Hawthorne, all Madge had to do was even hint that Gale was being rude, especially to his elders, and he would basically do whatever she wanted. It was kind of the sweetest thing, ever. So Gale flopped back down and flung an arm over his eyes, conceding defeat.

"You're going to regret this when it's you with a high fever and so much mucus in your head that it's basically coming out of your ears," he warned.

He felt her before he heard her, a gentle hand sweeping back the hair from his forehead. "Then I guess you'll just have to take care of me," she said sweetly.

Gale let out a contented sigh. "That feels nice," he murmured, already drifting off.

He can see the blurry outline of her smile. "I guess I'll be packing for you," she said softly. "It's probably better this way, anyway."

"Prob'ly," Gale said, and he was asleep.

All too soon, Madge was shaking him awake. "Gale," she said. "Gale. It's time to go, come on."

"Hmmm?" Gale blinked up at her, and Madge thought it was supremely unfair that even sick and rumpled, Gale Hawthorne was the cutest guy she'd ever seen.

"Come on," she said, bending down to help him up. "I packed your bag and I made a run to the grocery store and get you one of those weird little soup things you can drink." She'd also cleaned up his living room, putting on gloves she bought at the grocery store to throw away and disinfect as much as she could. "Can you shower? You'll feel better and it might clear up your sinuses. Then you can fall asleep in the car, okay?"

His head rolled onto her shoulder as she supported him. "Yeah," he muttered. "Just give me a sec."

He managed to take a hot shower– managed to undress himself, which was nothing short of a miracle, and then climbed back into clean sweat pants and a t-shirt, helpfully supplied by Madge on his bed. She was right; he _did_ feel a lot better, just getting clean and letting the steam from the shower clear his sinuses a bit. It also helped she made him drink a bunch of water and some cold medicine. God, he didn't know what he would do without her.

The only saving grace in this whole goddamned mess was that he had gotten her a gift– a really nice one– and he would bring it and give it to her on Christmas. He crouched down, clean and freshly dressed, and got it out from under his bed, still pristinely wrapped. It had been a risk, getting her this– he was afraid it would reveal too much about how he felt about her, how he'd felt about her for _ages_ , but… there was something about her, about this time of year, that made him feel brave.

And apparently, sick.

Shaking his head, Gale saw the neatly zipped duffle bag at the foot of his bed. Madge informed him that he'd have to pack his own boxers, thanks, but otherwise everything else he would need was in there. After ruffling through it, he determined she was right. She knew him inside and out, and he had to admit that if their situations were reversed he had confidence he'd be able to pack a bag for her as well. He tucked the present underneath some pairs of boxers, and was zipping it back up when he heard Madge calling him.

"Ready to go home?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said, and if a door hadn't separated them, she would've been able to tell, just by his smile, how much he loved her. "I am."


	3. Father Undersee

_**Day Three:** Father Undersee_

 _A continuation of yesterday's post_

She adored him.

He was her best friend in the world, had been for nearly four years since they were eighteen-year-old college freshmen in the same elementary biology class, of course she adored him, but sometimes that word couldn't truly encapsulate how Madge Undersee felt whenever she looked at Gale Hawthorne. It was like that feeling in her stomach right before the drop in a roller coaster, a rush of affection sweeping through her, so strong that it made her breath catch in her throat.

Head lolling on the window, he was fast asleep, dark sooty eyelashes sweeping sharp cheekbones. His hair, clean from the shower, was disheveled, sticking out in wild clumps from underneath his hoodie. She hated that he was sick and away from his family on Christmas, but a part of her thrilled at the scene: the two of them going to her family's house for Christmas, the car warm and toasty, music playing softly, as she headed home, the dark night clear and crisp, an easy drive. In another world, they were together, belonging to each other in a way she only dreamt about.

Madge sighed as she pulled up to her parents' house. Her aunt and uncle and cousins weren't there yet– wouldn't come until tomorrow– so the house would be quiet for a bit, which would hopefully help Gale sleep. As she turned the car off, Madge saw a light go on. Her father must've waited up for her, as usual.

"Gale," she said, shaking his shoulder, "wake up. We're here."

He had taken Nyquil before they left, the drive being about three hours, and it had him out cold within minutes. It didn't surprise her that he wasn't waking. She got out of the car and walked around to his side, slowly opening up the door and sticking her hand through to prop him up so he wouldn't fall out of the car. It was a slow process and she had to shove him back onto the seat more fully so he wouldn't fall.

"Gale," she said louder, "come on, you just gotta be up for five minutes. Get out of the car and we'll get you into bed, okay?"

Gale's lids, heavy, twitched and lifted a smidge. "M'ge?"

He looked so out of it, so utterly bewildered and miserable, that Madge had to smile. "Yes, Gale, it's me."

To her bafflement, Gale's lips curved into a sleepy smile. He sighed happily. "Oh, good," he slurred. "I m'ssed you."

Madge laughed. "I've been with you all day! And it's only been a couple of days before that since we've seen each other. We had finals, remember?"

Gale shook his head, his hood slipping off. "You don't un'erstand," he mumbled. "I just–"

Taking advantage of his semi-conscious state, Madge began to gently tug on his arm, and he finally started to get out of the car. "You just what, Gale?" She asked, trying to keep him talking and awake.

The cold of the outside must've shocked him awake a little bit, because his voice was clear and loud as he announced, "I just love you so much."

They were both fully outside now, Gale's arms wrapped around her waist, stooped over, his head on her shoulder. She could feel the vibrations of his words on her skin as though he'd tattoo'd them there with an electric needle.

She nearly dropped him.

And then, to her horror, a throat cleared. "Am I… interrupting something?"

Madge shut her eyes and then opened them again. "No," she said, but her voice was high-pitched and frantic. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, Mad," her father said, and Madge looked to her left. Her father stood, calm as always, posture straight, hands in his pockets, stance casual, but his lips were twitching into a smile. "Thought you might need some help. You told me Gale was pretty bad off."

"He's sick," Madge said, her voice lowering into its usual range. "And he took a lot of Nyquil before we left. He's only just woken up."

Henry Undersee nodded. "And it looks like he's gone back to sleep again." Madge groaned; she was supporting his upper-half completely, but luckily his legs were like tree trunks and he was rooted to the spot. If she had to support his entire weight she would've dropped him for sure.

Madge cursed. "I guess we do need your help, after all."

"I'll get your bags," Henry said, "you try and wake him up. Something tells me he'd take it better coming from you than from me."

Gale and her dad had met several times over the past few years, got along pretty well, but Madge understood her father's insinuation and her face burned because of it.

"Gale," she murmured, cheeks red as she could hear her father bustling about in the background. "Come on, you need to wake up."

She could feel him stir a little. "I'm cold, Madge."

"I know, love," she soothed, not catching the endearment in time. "We're going inside now, okay? But you have to help me– I can't carry you."

"Mmkay," he said, lifting his head up. Half-lidded, his eyes met hers, and he gave her a sweet, sleepy smile. "Love you."

She wanted to cry. "Love you, too," she said, her breath hitching, hoping her father couldn't hear as she took his hand and led him inside, up the stairs, to the guest room next to hers.

He sat down on the bed heavily, and was toeing off his shoes, Madge hovering anxiously, as her father approached, lingering in the doorway.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said hesitantly. Madge blinked, facing him. For the first time that night her father looked… awkward.

Madge's eyes narrowed at her father's tone. "Do what?" She asked warily. She knew her parents liked Gale, but she was protective of him in a way, so fiercely that it surprised even her.

"Have Gale sleep in here," her father said simply, completely unaware of Madge's internal bristling. "I'm not so old-fashioned that I'd object to you sharing a room with your boyfriend. Better that than having you two sneak around at night."

Madge gaped. "Um," she said, "Dad, no matter what it looked like out there, Gale is sick and we're not together like that."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Don't think I missed it when he said he loved you," he said. "Twice."

Madge shut her eyes tightly. Outside, with Gale's words, it seemed like she was in a dream– this conversation was quickly turning it into a nightmare. "That was just the Nyquil talking."

Her father snorted. "Honey, even if that was true, which it isn't, that doesn't account for the way he constantly looks at you as though you hung the moon in the sky. He's been crazy about you for years."

"What?" Madge gaped. And nobody thought to tell her?

As though reading her thoughts, her father shrugged. "It was obvious," he said casually, as though discussing the weather or what was for dinner that night. "But also, none of my business. I thought I'd best let you figure it out, or, you know, I thought eventually _he_ would figure out how crazy you are about him, too, but I guess not. Whoops."  
Suddenly remembering where she was, Madge whirled around in horror, wondering if Gale heard anything–

but he had already crawled under the blankets, and was curled up, fast asleep.

"Oh, well," her father said pleasantly. Madge turned back to him again, absolutely furious at his cheerful smile. "There's always tomorrow to confess your love."

"I can't believe this is happening," Madge muttered, putting a hand to her forehead.

Her father stepped to her and gave her a hug. "Welcome home, honey," he said, patting her on the back with something like sympathy for the first time that night. "It'll all work out. You'll see."

A little while later, laying wide awake in bed, Madge thought that maybe it would be, after all. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and anything could happen.


	4. Broken Heater BECAUSE OF Snow

_**Day Four:** Broken Heater BECAUSE OF Snow_

 _NOT a continuation of Days Two/Three. Sorry, I AM the worst. I'm also writing this drunk with absolutely no direction/inspiration, so we'll see how this goes._

When the power went out and the heater was broken, it seemed like people reverted back into their junior high selves, so basically savages. Thom and Bristel versus Finnick and Jo were playing beer pong of all things, in the basement; Delly was dancing and singing to Taylor Swift all by herself in the corner, with Annie cheering her on; and Katniss and Peeta were making out like it was the eighth grade and they were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

"All I wanted," Madge was saying, disbelief evident in the faintness of her voice, "was a nice evening in. Catching up. Seeing how everyone was doing. Maybe some hot toddies? A little bit of Netflix. Mild intoxication. Mild. Instead… anarchy. Total anarchy. And I can't feel my toes anymore."

Well, she wasn't wrong. Gale definitely didn't picture his New Year's Eve at Madge Undersee's parents' cabin to be like this. He didn't know what he'd pictured, really, but it involved a functioning hot tub; functioning heat and some relaxation.

"I'm freezing," he admitted. "I'm not gonna lie, I was really looking forward to that hot tub." It was too cold for the hot tub to work properly. And the heat was broken, but, miraculously, due to some great (sober) planning, the pipes hadn't froze and they still got hot and cold water.

"You and me both," Madge admitted. She was drinking red wine like it was going out of style. "I mean, have you seen Thom without his shirt on? It basically was going to be like a late Christmas present."

Despite himself, Gale couldn't help be offended. "Thom?" He demanded. (Ok, maybe he was drinking prosecco like it was going out of style. Fuck off, he had developed a taste for it when he studied abroad in Rome his junior year of college, okay?) "You think Thom's body is like a late Christmas present?"

"Why?" Madge smirked into her drink. "You don't?"

"It's like, fine," Gale scoffed, his eyes fixated on her lips, "but mine's better."

Madge raised her eyebrows, amused. "You're sure confident."

"Not confident," he assured her, "this is just fact."

"Oh, yeah?" Madge goaded. "Prove it."

"Not here," Gale said, "it's too damn cold."

"The hot water is working and the bathroom upstairs is small enough," Madge mused. "What if I made a makeshift sauna for you? Would that be good enough?"

"Wouldn't that risk not everyone else having enough hot water?" Gale asked.

Madge shrugged. "Are you saying your bod isn't worth the risk?"

Gale thought for a moment before downing the rest of his drink. "True," he said. "Plus, they can just use, like, body heat for warmth."

"Oh, totally," Madge said solemnly as she followed him upstairs. "Good call."

As it turned out, Madge had to agree that Gale's torso, arms, and overall distribution of facial and body hair did make his body better than Thom's. But that required a lot of intensive, time-consuming research, both in the bathroom and out. Not that either of them minded.

Happy New Year, indeed.


	5. Church

_**Day Five:** Church_

 _Again, NOT a continuation of Days Two/Three. Continuing to be The Worst. But I'm sober now! (Although I'm writing this while drinking peppermint-schnapps-cocoa so like, we'll see how long that lasts.)_

When they were nineteen-years-old, Gale Hawthorne fell in love with Madge Undersee in a church.

As a nonreligious person, this small distinction is important to Gale– he didn't fall in love with Madge while attending church, they just happened to _be_ in one.

They were in the same study abroad program in Rome the summer after their first year of college. Although studying engineering, Gale still needed to fulfill his English and Arts credits, and Madge was planning on minoring in Art History, so they ended up in the same program.

It went without saying that the experience changed his life– he, who had only been to handful of state, let alone out of the country– and that he was exposed to different foods, different people, different ways of life. He sat through two-hour Italian classes every day that he was sure was going to kill him but by the end of the three months he had mastered basic conversations and the local Italians appreciated his bumbling efforts to speak.

But perhaps, despite all of that, one of the more surprising experiences was his relationship with Madge. They had gone to the same high school and were cool acquaintances at best– to be sure, she was much more friendlier than he was, but he was a resentful little shit, and it hadn't been until he got a hefty financial aid package (no loans, just grants, a fucking miracle,) at the same college she was going to did he finally get the stick out of his ass and gained a little perspective (were things still shitty if you weren't socioeconomically successful? Especially if you were someone of color? Hell, yeah, but gripping about it didn't help anyone, and being shitty to someone like Madge also didn't help matters.)

Over the course of the trip they went from being freezingly polite to each other (she hated him, he didn't blame her–) to friendly (she had taken a year of Italian in preparation for this trip and very kindly offered to tutor him for the first few weeks) to best friends (two a.m. strolls around Piazza Navona, sharing a bottle of prosecco and sharing secrets, sneaking into the Roman Forum, Madge drunkenly quoting Ovid and Virgil to him,) to him realizing, in the basement of a church, that he was in love with her.

Known as the San Carlino, it was one of the smallest churches Gale had ever seen, crammed into the corner of the intersection of Strada Pia and Strada Felice, making up a quarter of the famous Four Fountains, or Quattro Fontane, of Rome. Designed by master artist Borromini (not to be confused with his arch nemesis, Bernini,) the small church was also pristine, nearly devoid of the ostentatious gold that absolutely covered the other Catholic churches in the city.

The poor boy in Gale hated the gaudiness of Italian churches, but the more they went to, to study the art and architecture and history, the more he could see how they were all different, and soon began to actually have favorites, or at least understand art enough to have preferences. And this, somehow, became one of his favorites.

Their professors would usually give a short lecture when they first entered, or before they entered, a site, but usually let them have free reign for about an hour before moving on. Gale and Madge were good friends with most people in their group, but quickly broke off to explore– and had ended up in the basement, a former crypt, of the church.

Gale hated crypts– he hated small places, hated being underground. When they went to the crypts in the country he had to hold Madge's hand the whole time he hated it so much. But these were cool, empty, a respite from the heat. He felt a peace in the plain basement that he never felt in any of the wide, open churches upstairs.

And then, Madge started humming. He couldn't remember the tune, but it was soft and pretty, and there they were, just the two of them, and she was twirling around, dancing to a tune only she knew, and he was just standing there in the basement of a Renaissance church in Rome, Italy, and well… how could he not fall in love with her?

That night, he would try and brush it off; chalk it up to the geography, of where they were. People had flings all the time during study abroad, whether it was with their classmates or people they met. But deep down he knew that this was more than that, that his love for her was built on a real foundation of friendship and trust and affection.

And he was right. He learned, during their last week, that she loved him, too, and so, just like that, they went back to the states together in a relationship. And at first there was that fear, still, that things wouldn't last once the honeymoon stage was over and they were back in the 'real world' but it didn't. Things weren't always easy, but Gale always came back to one thing: he loved her. He loved her so much and, because love isn't just a feeling, but a choice, he kept on loving her, day after day, year after year.

Five years after their first trip, for their anniversary, Gale suggested they go back to Rome. They both had been working for a couple years at good jobs since graduation and had accrued enough vacation and money to go, so they went again, but this time they went in winter instead of summer, right before Christmas.

This may have been a tactical error on Gale's part– he didn't realize how packed Rome would be, as many people liked to stay there for Christmas because of the holiday and to see the Pope, but one day he was able to maneuver it so they came back to San Carlino.

"I remember this church," Madge said with a fond smile as he led her inside. For all they knew about each other, Gale never told her this was where he fell in love with her, where he knew he was in love with her, at least. It just– never came up. "Was this where…?"

"Where we found the crypt?" Gale asked casually, as though he wasn't already leading her exactly there. "Yeah, it was."

They went down the stairs and Madge gasped. "Oh!" She said. "It's lovely."

There were sconces on the walls that had been empty when they were there five years previously, but now they were lit with white candles, giving the room, though still bare and empty, a soft glow.

"Did they do this for Christmas?" Asked Madge, spinning around slowly.

"No," Gale said. Madge stopped. He was on his knee. "They did it for me; because I asked them to."

Madge couldn't think. "What?" She breathed, her eyes welling up.

"Five years ago," Gale said, "we came down here, discovered this place, and you started humming, dancing around me– I couldn't believe you were real. And that– that was when I knew I loved you. And I've loved you ever since, no matter where we were, and I know that, no matter where we will be, I'll love you still. Madge, will you marry me?"

Madge nodded furiously. "Yes," she said, "yes, of course!"

(Gale told the monks he would blow out the candles before they left, and years, decades later, this one memory will stand out in Gale's mind from this day: pursed to blow out the last candle, Madge whispering, "Ti amo," to him, and then, darkness and peace and her.)


	6. Katniss & Peeta

_**Day Six:** Katniss & Peeta_

"Are you going to give it to her, or not?" Someone is muttering on his left. "Jesus Christ on a _cracker_ , Peeta, this is your second-to-last chance!"

Gale, unpacking his things in the few minutes before lecture starts, can't help but look at the speaker. Blonde, pretty, has sat next to him for the entire semester, in that way where people unconsciously choose their seats the first day and tend not to move. Her brow is furrowed, sapphire blue eyes narrowed, and he follows her fierce gaze to where he sees a blond, burly boy with a wrapped package behind his back, fidget and redden while talking to– Katniss Everdeen, his ex-best friend and ex-girlfriend. Jesus Christ on a cracker, indeed.

"Class is starting soon," he can't help but point out mildly. "If he's going to give it to her he'd better do it quick."

The girl whips around to face him, brow raised. After scrutinizing him for a moment, she relaxes a bit. "That's what I told him earlier," she says, sounding more patient than she looked. "But he's very shy, and she's–"

"Intimidating," Gale finishes, "scowly and prickly and sort of mean."

The blonde blinks slowly in bemusement before and her eyes narrow at him again. "You know her."

Gale nods, wishing he hadn't say anything now. "I knew her," he corrects. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Oh," says the girl. " _Oh_. Well. This is awkward."

Gale shrugs. "Is it?" he asks, even though it very clearly is. "I'll even give you the context, if you'd like. We were best friends since middle school, gave it a go our last year of high school, it crashed and burned spectacularly two years in, and here we are, our junior year of college, haven't spoken much since."

The blonde, he's a little distressed to note, looks very cute with a furrowed brow. Hell, she looks cute all the time. "Oh."

"Not enough?" and he's very aware that he's not maintaining his nonchalant facade very well. " _Oh,_ you're wondering _why_ we broke up. Eh, I may have let it slip that I thought she was It for me; she panicked at the idea of forever and commitment, even though I wasn't asking anything of her, knew how skittish she is at the idea of marriage, and she broke it off . I didn't take it well."

"Hmm," her gaze wanders back to her friend– Peeta– which Gale wasn't expecting. "Maybe I should tell him it isn't worth his time, then. Peeta… he's definitely a 'forever' type of guy."

"Looks like it," Gale agrees, and they watch their interactions for a moment; Peeta bashful and charming, Katniss awkward and… shy? "I think she likes him," Gale announces. "Or maybe she's changed in the last year and a half. I don't know. But see how she looks at him? She looks… softer. Happier."

He looks back at the blonde, to see if she can see it, too, but she's looking at him. "Do you…" she hesitates, bites her lip. "Do you still love her?"

"There's a quote from a book I read in high school," Gale says. "It's Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night. It's: 'Think how you love me. I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.' That part of me– that person who I was when we were together will always love that part of her. But that part of me isn't a big part of who I am anymore." He's embarrassed now; what is it about this girl that has him spilling his whole love life? But something about her is soft, comforting. Peaceful. She's not sitting there judging him, just listening. "Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense," she says softly, and her mouth curves into a smile. "So he has a shot?"

Gale drags his gaze back to the pair (it's difficult, all he wants to do is look at her.) Peeta's given Katniss his gift, and although she hasn't opened it yet, it's curled between her hands like something sacred. "Yeah, I really do."

The blonde clears her throat and Gale turns back to her. She sticks out her hand. "I'm Madge," she says.

"Gale," he shakes her hand, curls his fingers into hers. She squeezes back, and seems reluctant to let go when the professor enters the room.

By the end of the week, two classes later, he has her number. They text all throughout Christmas break; and meet up at the beginning of the next semester. He asks her out on a date a month later, and by the end of the year they're together.

Her best friend, Peeta, has had equal luck, and he and Katniss are dating, though they're taking it slowly. Gale and Katniss have even spoken a couple of times because of their respective significant others; he's happy for her, he doesn't have any hard feelings.

They're both with whom they're meant to be.


	7. Wedding

_**Day Seven:** Wedding_

By sheer luck, Gale's placed in the emergency exit row of the plane. Being over six feet tall, those scant extra inches of leg room are crucial.

Also by sheer luck, he's sitting next to a cute blonde. She's one of those rare passengers who looks effortlessly cool, in a simple but obviously expensive outfit of dark pants tucked into gleaming, dark brown riding boots, with a simple jacket, blouse, and oversized scarf. She looks pristine and it only adds to the awful grimy feeling he always gets when he travels.

Hefting his duffle bag into the compartment above them– another lucky find, considering everyone these days tries to use only carry-ons while traveling, he sits down next to her. It's the middle seat, which sucks, but he still gets more leg room than he would in a normal seat, so he's just going to take this day as a win.

She gives him a polite smile as he settles in, but turns back to her magazine. The headline: KATNISS EVERDEEN AND PEETA MELLARK: SECRETLY WED? SECRETLY PREGNANT? stares him in the face.

The blonde makes a snorting noise as she flips through the pages. "Trash," she mutters.

Gale raises his eyebrow. Then why the hell is she reading it?

Catching his expression, she lowers the magazine with a sheepish expression. "I can't help it, sometimes," she says, "sometimes the stories are so outlandish that they make me laugh but other times they just piss me off." She gestures to the couple on the cover; it's a candid shot where they're both casually dressed and definitely giving LEAVE ME ALONE vibes. The irony.

"I don't know why they can't just leave them alone," Gale says with a snort. "That's not– that's not even a good shot. If they didn't hound them so constantly they might even pose for a good one."

"Paps aren't just there to get a good photo, though," the blonde says grimly, "they want a good story. Something scandalous, preferably."

"Good luck getting it with those two," Gale says, before he realizes how it sounds. "I've heard, uhh, that they're both really private people. Not to mention super chill and boring. I hear he likes to BAKE in his spare time. And all she does is archery."

"Everyone knows that," the blonde says with amusement, but there's a calculating gleam in her eyes. "You look familiar," she says. "Have we met before?"

Gale has a moment of true panic– people didn't tend to recognize him. There were a couple of pictures that popped up of him and Katniss eating lunch together the couple of times he went out to Hollywood to visit her, or when she was close enough to where he lived while she was on tour, but they wore sunglasses each time and when reporters and paparazzi tried to find out his identity he was just called a "family friend," which was true. He was her best friend.

"Um, no," he says quickly, then plasters on a charming smile. "I think I'd remember if we'd met."

She smiles back at him, friendly as ever, but apparently she's as smart as she is pretty because she's not backing down. "No, I'm sure of it." She pauses for a moment, clearly thinking. "Or… maybe I've just seen pictures of you," she says slowly, and now Gale thinks he's well and truly fucked. "In my best friend's living room. The one he shares… with his girlfriend. Or, I guess, his fiancee." Her voice lowers. "His soon-to-be wife? As of this weekend, anyway."

Gale freezes. Is she saying…? "Maybe," he says cautiously. What if she's a reporter? He's heard of such things happening, from Katniss, about the kind of trickery that people will use to get any sort of tidbit on celebrities' lives.

But then, she starts to look kind of familiar, too. He's met Peeta Mellark a few times, liked him well enough, approved of him for his best friend, and could see how he had made it big as a Hollywood actor, besides the obvious charm. He's a handsome guy, and has vivid blue eyes that had girls and reporters alike comparing them to Chris Pine and Matt Bomer's eyes. This woman has them, too. He's seen them in Peeta's face and he's seen them on pictures at his and Katniss' house, on the walls, as a child, as a teenager, and as a young woman at her college graduation. He remembers because he thought a the time she was beautiful. How could he forget a face like hers? How did he not realize it right away?

"Madge," he says slowly, tasting the name on his tongue. He's never said it aloud before, only heard Peeta say it. "You're–"

"Yes, his cousin," she says quickly, and Gale comes back to himself, remembers that they're in public. "And you're…"

"Gale," he says with a smile, holding out his hand. "I'm uh, her best friend."

"It's so nice to meet you!" She pumps his hand eagerly, a firm grip. "What a coincidence! But I thought you were supposed to come a few days ago, with your family?"

He shakes his head. "Got held up at work," he says. "You? This is cutting it pretty close."

"I'm working on getting my masters and I had to work on my thesis," she says, "make a deadline for part of it."

"Cool," he says genuinely. "What are you studying?"

They talk the rest of the flight (and are lucky enough that no one else comes in their row so they can spread out between the three seats) about her aims to become a child psychologist; about his work in environmental engineering; about, as stealthily as they can, Peeta and Katniss and the upcoming super secret wedding. They talk about their childhoods with both of them and marveling at how people so close to them ended up so famous.

"It's surreal," Madge is saying with a lowered voice. Gale could listen to her speak forever; her voice is so sexy to him like that. "I mean, he's just my cousin, you know? And yet to think of him like this…"

"It's weird because she hates the spotlight," Gale says. "And yet somehow she just becomes a whole different person on stage. I try and catch her shows when she's in town and I can't believe it. She told me she has a different persona on stage– she just completely separates herself from who she is in real life and that's how she gets through it all. But I'm happy for her. For them."

"Me, too," Madge says sweetly. "Hey, how long are you in LA for?"

"I took a couple weeks off," Gale says. "Had a lot of vacation saved up. Gonna hang out with my family for a little bit, head to Disneyland, that kind of thing. You?"

"Same," she says. "I have a bunch of younger cousins that I don't get to see much, and I would love to spoil them."

"Maybe we could all make a day of it," Gale suggests. He definitely doesn't want to just see her at the wedding. Although come to think of it, she DOES study at a university that's only half an hour from where he lives.

Maybe if he plays his cards right, he can see her for more than just this trip.

She's already grinning at him as though she can tell what he's thinking and she doesn't mind at all. "Maybe we can make a day of just the two of us," she suggests boldly.

And they do, not even waiting until after the wedding to do something just the two of them. Gale thanks Katniss and Peeta mentally multiple times for getting him his own hotel room, away from his parents and siblings, and he and Madge make good use of it on the night of the rehearsal dinner– and the wedding, and the day after the wedding, and, okay, maybe the day after that.

A few years later, at their own wedding, Katniss and Peeta even try and take credit for them getting together. Gale rolls his eyes, but he lets them take it; arm around his own bride, he's too happy to care..


	8. Hazelle

_**Day Eight:** Hazelle_

 _I know little to nothing about hospitals and doctor rotations and such. My knowledge comes from Grey's Anatomy, so… sorry! Any advice/corrections welcome._

When Madge sees the name on her latest patient's chart, she feels her heart drop: Hazelle Hawthorne. It's Christmas Eve and she's working, one of the few doctors in the hospital, and luckily it's been quiet– or quieter than Madge thought it would be, anyway.

It was a bad car accident, and the bright side is that there were no fatalities– although because she has to say that should indicate how truly bad it was.

Hazelle is still conscious, but she's cracked a couple ribs and fractured her collarbone. Recovery is going to be a bitch, putting it lightly, but she'll be okay.

Right now, she's in a lot of pain, and her eyes flicker, to Madge's shock, in relief when she sees her. "Madge," she says, "Madge Undersee."

"Hello, Mrs. Hawthorne," Madge says, willing herself to remain steady and calm for the woman, who somehow miraculously remembers her. Madge wonders if Hazelle remembers her as the former mayor's daughter or as the girl who was in her eldest son's grade in school– his former nemesis, even. "It says that you've had x-rays and an MRI, so I'm here to give you your results, okay? How are you feeling? It says here that the nurses gave you pain medication, are you comfortable?"

Hazelle gives her a sleepy smile. "As well as can be expected, dear," she says.

Madge bites her lip. "Is… do your children know? Does Gale…?"

Hazelle pats her hand absently; Madge catches it and holds on. "Gale's flying home tonight. He doesn't know."

"And… and the kids?" Gale has a few younger siblings, she remembers. Three. She didn't hear that any children were involved in the accident, thank god.

"They were with the Everdeen's… you remember Katniss, don't you?" What a relief.

"Of course," she is dating Madge's best friend, Peeta, after all. "Have they…? Been notified?"

"I had them notify the Everdeen's, but not to tell the kids until Gale got there," Hazelle says, her eyes sliding shut slowly.

Madge bites her lip. She hasn't seen Gale in years, probably not since they were undergrads in college, but she knows he'll be frantic with worry once he found out.

It's slow in the ER right now, so Madge doesn't feel guilty when she says softly, even though Hazelle is asleep, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you until he gets here."

* * *

She tells the nurses that she'll be taking care of this patient personally, and she'll let them know when they need to put her back on her rotation. The nurses don't ask why, but they can tell by her red-rimmed eyes that the woman in bed is important to her.

The thing is, Madge and Hazelle Hawthorne haven't interacted much over the years. Hazelle might not even have that high of an opinion of Madge; after all, her eldest son absolutely loathed her in high school. Gale, determined to get into a good school with as little debt as possible, was an aggressively excellent student, channeling all of that Hawthorne intensity into his studies and extra-curriculars, hell-bent on getting as many grants and scholarships as possible. Madge, by nature, was a good student, and, knowing she wanted to be a doctor, was also an aggressively excellent student.

On paper, they should've been friends; they were in all of the same advanced classes; were in many of the same clubs, like National Honor Society and Rotary; had many of the same friends, like Finnick and Annie and Delly and Thom and Bristel; but that also meant that they were usually in competition for the same leadership positions, and, although Madge might have been quieter than the charming, forceful Gale, she too had a backbone of steel and had no problem going toe-to-toe with him whenever she disagreed with him. It made for a combative relationship, putting it mildly.

Their friends called them tightly wound and sexually repressed, and they really just needed to fuck and get it out of their systems, and maybe relax a little and act like real teenagers (ok, well, maybe Finnick was the only one brave enough to actually _say_ all of this out loud, to their faces, but all of their friends privately agreed, was the point.)

They made peace after they both got into their respective colleges that they worked so hard to get into (with Gale getting into his top college of choice on an impressive full-ride.) When Madge very sincerely congratulated him, telling him how happy she was for him and knew he would do great things, he softened towards her a great deal, those last few months of high school. They started to share leadership in their clubs, running them together, and making such a seamless team that they both privately lamented that they wished they had done it sooner.

Nevertheless, they never really became friends. They were both too shy and proud to apologize, to fully make amends and move on, so they continued to dance around each other in a way that made their friends' heads shake even more vehemently than before.

Most summers they were away from home, doing internships or summer jobs, but sometimes they'd see each other during the holidays, at a friend's Christmas party, and be perfectly cordial, but nothing more. It was… a little disappointing, to say the least.

But she can do this; she can sit with his mother and keep her company (never mind that she was unconscious) until he comes.

* * *

She hears Gale before she sees him, yelling and frantic footsteps, and then the door bursting open.

Madge can't help it; she frowns. "Could you be quiet?" She says. "Your mother is resting."

Gale gapes at her. _"Madge Undersee_?"

She stands up and picks up his mother's chart, slipping back into Doctor Mode. She can't help it; she's _nervous_ , somehow. He looks better than ever since she last saw him five years ago; filled out and confident. His grey eyes are still fiery and intense, but no longer with that same angry, resentful defiance like when they were kids. "Your mother is in stable condition. She's had a CT scan and an MRI. There's no internal bleeding, which is good, but she does have a couple cracked ribs and a fractured collarbone, so she'll have to take it easy for several weeks, putting it mildly, until those have healed fully. She's on pain medication right now and is sleeping, but she'll be okay. Really."

"Um, okay." His mother's safety assured, he looks a little shell-shocked, and Madge directs him to the chair next to his mother's side. He shifts a little once he's in it and he turns to her. "It's warm."

"What?"

"The chair," he says. "It's warm. Have you…? Have you been with her this whole time?"

Madge's cheeks flush. She glances at the clock; it's been two hours. "Yeah," she says. "Ever since I found out she was on my rotation. But she's been here longer, I think. They took her for tests and stuff before I knew. Otherwise, I would've…"

"Thank you," he says quietly. "That's… that's really great of you. I'm sure you have other patients."

Madge waves it off, feeling embarrassed. "It's quiet tonight, luckily," she says. "And there are other doctors here, who owe me. I only have a couple other patients and they're taking care of it. But I should get back to them, now that you're here." She bites her lip. "How are… do your siblings know? I asked your mother earlier about it, and she said the Everdeen's wouldn't tell them until you got there. Are they okay?"

Gale scrubs a hand over his face. "They're panicked, obviously," he says, "they wanted to come, too, but I convinced them to let me come first. Assess everything. Rory will drive them over when I give the go-ahead." He looks at his mother in the bed, and his eyes fill with tears. "I just wanted to make sure…"

Madge wants nothing more than to reach over and put her hand on his. He never let on when they were in high school, but it was obvious just how much of a burden he placed upon himself to make sure his family was okay. His drive in school came from wanting to do right by them and provide for them after his father died. To lose his mother, too…

"She's doing well," Madge says. "The doctor who assessed her initially is great, and I made sure they did everything they could for her. She'll be just fine, Gale." Her voice, despite everything, cracks a little on the second to last word, and Gale looks up at her.

"You're an angel," he tells her with a crooked grin, his eyes warm. "Out of all the ways I'd have thought to run into you again, I never would've expected…"

Her heart gives a little jump. Has he ever thought of seeing her again? But that's ridiculous. It's been years.

"It's not ideal," she agrees. They sit in silence for a moment, watching each other, and Madge feels herself warm, like she's just drunk mulled, spiced wine and it's spreading throughout her whole body. She clears her throat. "I'd better go," she says, "but either myself or Doctor Michaels will be back to check on her, okay?"

Gale nods. "All right," he says. "I'll call Rory and tell him to come?"

"Go ahead," Madge says, "it's technically after visiting hours, but… it's Christmas."

"Or nearly," Gale says. "Do you have to work tomorrow, too?"

"Yeah," Madge says, "but my family will celebrate on the 26th and I get four days off, so it's fine."

"That's good," he nods seriously. "Thanks again, Madge. The situation isn't ideal but… it's really good to see you again."

 _Really good._ "You, too," she manages before she slips out the door, Gale watching her go thoughtfully.

 **(part two to come!)**


	9. Cookies

_**Day Nine:** Cookies_

 _Continuation from Day Eight_

Between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Madge goes home to get some sleep, but is back at the hospital immediately after. Equipped with a large thermos of coffee, it's been one of those weeks where she feels as though several days just feels like one long, neverending day instead.

Doctor Michaels, who she's relieving, knows to put Hazelle back in her rotation to check on. The nurses will primarily be responsible for her, so she doesn't have to check-in on her if it's not medically necessary, but Madge wants to see her, at least a couple times throughout her shift.

The first time, to her relief, Hazelle is sitting up in bed, but alone. She smiles brightly at Madge as she comes in shyly. "Hello," she says. "Merry Christmas!"

Madge smiles as she comes to the foot of her bed and checks her chart. "Merry Christmas," she says. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Hazelle says. "Although I'm on quite a few drugs right now, so I'm not really feeling much of anything."

"That's probably for the best," Madge concedes, turning her attention to the chart. A nurse had come during the previous hour and helped Hazelle use the bathroom, changed her IV, and made sure she was hydrated. Perfect. She sets the chart down. "I'm surprised to find you by yourself, honestly."

"I sent them down to the cafeteria to get something to eat," Hazelle says. "Although I have the feeling they have something else up their sleeves. Even on painkillers, a mother knows."

Considering her own family history, Madge can't quite agree, but at least her mother, after finally finding a good medication and taking the correct dosages, is a fully-functioning adult and mother now. "That's sweet," she says instead. "Well, I'll get out of your hair, so–"

Hazelle grabs her hand. "You'll come by later, won't you?" She asks. "I know Gale wants to see you."

"Oh," Madge blinks, hoping her face isn't as red as it feels. "Well, that's all right. He already thanked me yesterday–"

"He wants to again," Hazelle made a fond, exasperated face. "You know how he is. Stubborn."

"Not much has changed in five years, then?" Madge says lightly, backing up. "I'll make my rounds and then we'll see, okay? If we're lucky the hospital will still be quiet, but you never know on Christmas…"

Hazelle smiles. "Well, I'll tell him you dropped in," she says. "He'll make it up to you somehow."

Madge is confused. "He doesn't need to," she says. "None of you need to. I didn't do anything."

"Tell that to Gale," Hazelle insists. " _Stubborn_."

Madge thinks that perhaps she should find Hazelle's nurse and tell her not to give her _quite_ such a high dosage of painkillers. She's clearly a little loopy.

* * *

Several hours later and Madge is in the cafeteria, listlessly staring at her food. She's exhausted; she's dealt with a stream of patients– some car accidents; some grease and kitchen burns; some kids already swallowing weird parts of their new toys; etc. No matter how much coffee she has doesn't change the fact that she feels like she's at the end of her rope. It's 8 PM and she's been at the hospital for 14 hours. She's just clocked out and she could go home, but she wanted to eat something, because she knew she was going to go home and pass out, and there was nothing worse in Madge's eyes than waking up starving after a shift. It usually led to making awful life and dietary choices.

Despite that, she can't eat much, just moving the food around, trying to summon enough energy to leave, so it takes her a moment to process the large, brown hand hovering over her plate, a cookie stretched towards her.

Madge slowly lifts her eyes up. Gale Hawthorne, looking criminally good in a dark green sweater, is smiling down on her. Is she hallucinating? Is this some sort of Christmas Carol thing, except she's been super good this year, so she's being rewarded with hot men? (She'll take it.)

"Hey," Gale says. "I thought I'd missed you."

"Um," Madge says. She couldn't check on Hazelle, but she did catch Hazelle's nurse a couple times throughout the day and asked her how she was doing. She couldn't quite be too upset by it; she didn't know how she felt about seeing Gale again, especially a Gale who felt he _owed_ her for being kind to his mother. "Nope. I'm, uh… still here."

She's a mess and she's too tired to even be embarrassed by it.

"I'm glad," Gale says, taking a seat. "Um, here's a… would you like a cookie? I made them. To bring to Ma. But I thought I'd offer you one and Ma's nurse said you usually came here after your shifts, so…"

She takes it gingerly from him and he rubs the back of his neck as she takes a bite. "This is really good," she says, and she means it. It's just chocolate chip, but it's chewy and not too sweet, and it's perfect. It goes really well with the mediocre hospital coffee, surprisingly. "Thanks, Gale. Your mom said earlier you were looking for me, but… honestly, you don't have to worry about it. We're good."

Gale shakes his head. "I know, but…"

"No 'buts.' You brought me sugar, can't we just say we're even?" She feels more energized– not by much, but enough to muster up a grin, and to feel self-conscious enough about the state of her hair and smudged make-up.

Gale shakes his head again, and Madge sighs. "Gale…"

"Hear me out," Gale says, and he rubs the back of his neck again. Madge realizes with a start that he's _nervous_. "How about… you let me take you out to dinner? Then we'll call it good."

"Oh, yeah?" Madge raises an eyebrow.

Gale flushes. "I mean, I don't know if I would count that as me paying you back. Pretty sure even if we go on a date that'll just be putting me more in your debt."

Madge tilts her head, assesses him. "That's only if it was a pity date," she says calmly.

Gale grins. "So it's not?"

"Nope," Madge says, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. "Definitely not."

Gale blinks at her for a moment, dazed, before he thinks to ask, "When are you free next?"

"Luckily for you, I have the next few days off." She gets up to put her tray away.

"Where are you going?" He asks with a laugh.

"To my car," Madge says over her shoulder, "if you walk me to it, maybe I'll owe you enough where I'll give you my number… just to make things even."

He hurries to catch up with her– If this is what owing Madge Undersee is like, Gale will take it.


	10. Mistletoe

_**Day Ten:** Mistletoe_

The thing is, the disdain was mutual.

There was no unrequited longing, no secretive, _Hey Arnold-_ esque pining masquerading as hostility. Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee did _not_ like each other. At all. In any way, shape, or form.

He was surly, obstinate, and had a chip on his shoulder the size of a moon crater, and she was a self-righteous know-it-all who hated being proven wrong.  
So naturally, they loathed each other. (He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?)

They ran in the same circle of friends, because their bumfuck town had a graduating senior class of like, fifty people, and with numbers like that, the odds of finding cool people their age were slim to none, and both being reasonably intelligent people, naturally ended up in the same small group that consisted of the other cool, reasonably intelligent people their age.

Everyone was convinced it was just a matter of UST that desperately needed resolving. If anything, a good fuck would do both of them, well, _good_ , and everyone had hoped that, after a year away at college, perhaps they would've chilled out a little bit and Thom and Delly's join Christmas party wouldn't be completely ruined by their usual drunken spats.

It turned out to be too much to hope for.

"Well, Princess, how's Hoity Toity University?" Gale asked, sidling up next to her with some spiked punch. They had their backs to the wall, surveying the party.

"I'm getting a quality education, which is more than I can say for whichever school you ended up at, Hawthorne," Madge said dryly. "Hoity Toity University? I think you've regressed since I last saw you, Hawthorne, and that's saying something, since I didn't think it possible."

"Well, despite that quality education, it hasn't done much to dislodge that giant stick up your ass," Gale said cheerfully, taking a swig. "So perhaps we're even."

The earlier crass sentiments aside, Madge couldn't help but squint her eyes at Gale's last statement. It was surprisingly… benign. She didn't even have a comeback for it. Maybe he was lulling her into a false sense of security. "Just leave me alone, Hawthorne," she said with disgust. "I just want to enjoy tonight, thanks."

"Why?" He said, throwing back the rest of his drink, all earlier good cheer gone. His lips were stained red from the wine, and Madge thought he looked like a wolf; It was certainly clear he was on the attack tonight. "Not wanna be in that miserable old mansion tonight?" It wasn't a terribly out-there question– he frequently, over the years, threw barbs that related to her wealth, her family's house, and general white privilege.

And obviously, she couldn't say anything about his socioeconomic status without coming across as a real bitch, but she _could_ talk about his male privilege, and so their spats had a usual ebb-and-flow. Sometimes their fights even felt a bit scripted, a bit tired, but who was he to mess with tradition?

It seemed that she was the one who decided to trip things up, because instead of tossing back a barb she said absolutely. Nothing.

Silence.

Gale finally glanced over at her; she was too busy pounding back the (very) strong drink that Bristel had poured for her earlier. The grip on her glass was so tight her knuckles were white. She slammed the empty glass down on the table.

"Yep," she said, popping her 'p.' "I don't wanna be in that miserable old mansion tonight. It's empty and it's cold and there's nothing for me there. Dad's working, Mom's stoned, aunts and uncles decided they would rather go elsewhere. So I'm here. With you." She gave a humorless laugh. "And honestly, standing next to you hearing you trash my life is still preferable to being at home. So, congrats and Merry Christmas, Hawthorne, that should tell you just how great the Princess's castle is." He couldn't look away as her cheeks began to flush from the alcohol and her eyes began to well up from– well, he knew. _"Cheers_ ," she spat, stalking away, yanking open the sliding door to the balcony, sans coat, and stepping outside. Their friends watched her go, not hearing the exchange but figuring it was Gale and Madge's usual bullshit. They shook their heads.

They didn't see the unshed tears; they didn't see the falter in her step, or the way that Gale remained immobile against the wall for a long time, eyes watching her, alone outside in the snow.

* * *

It took a bit, but he found her coat, and, taking his and ignoring their friends' curious looks, he stepped outside to give it to her. He knew she was probably, despite the warmth the alcohol provided, freezing her ass off, and shit, he was Catholic, guilt was practically in his blood.

He didn't say anything, just draped the coat over her shoulders. She turned to look at him, eyes flat. "Thanks," she said, and then turning out to look at the quiet, snowy street below. It had snowed earlier, after everyone arrived at the party.

Gale knew how to say sorry; had said it plenty times, in fact, to various people, but he had never said it to Madge Undersee before.

"I'm an asshole," he told her. "I'm sorry I crossed that line."

Madge shrugged. "You didn't know that line was there," she said. "Hell, I didn't even know that line was there until you said it. Don't worry about it, Hawthorne. Go inside and drink some more."

"Nah," he said, looking at her face– a face he had seen so many times before but, at this time and place, seemed brand new to him. He didn't want to say she was beautiful in her sadness, because he hated that manic pixie dream girl bullshit and he knew, objectively, from years of knowing her, that she looked most beautiful when she laughed, when she relaxed and enjoyed what was happening around her, but she was, in repose, _so_ pretty. He couldn't look away from her in a way he couldn't explain. "I'm good where I'm at… if that's okay. I won't talk if you don't want me to."

"A Christmas miracle," she said, but she's looking over at him, too, and smiling, tentatively. He smiled back at her, widely, relieved, feeling that the Christmas miracle was just them, right there, at peace for once.

Being angry and arguing got his blood going, his heart pumping, in a way that reminded him of running a race. It made him feel alive and he could tell that Madge was the same way– they didn't like each other, and that just made it okay to get out their frustrations and meanness on each other because it didn't matter. But this… this was so nice, too.

Maybe he'd take up boxing instead.

They stood outside for a while, in silence, ignoring the chatter and glances from their friends, and only decided to go in when Madge's teeth began to chatter and the tips of Gale's fingers were nearly blue.

He held the door open for her, and she was in the process of slipping past him, when Delly called out drunkenly, "Oooh, mistletoe!"

They both looked up sharply, and sure enough– mistletoe. Those little bastards had set them up while they were out there.

Their friends jeered at them, and Madge flushed, but she and Gale held each other's gazes. If it was earlier in the night they would've refused, thrown tantrums like children, but they were still soft and tender from their moment outside, and Gale held himself very still as Madge stood on her tiptoes, cupped his face in hers, and kissed him sweetly, her hair falling around them as though their kiss was a secret shared under covers and in the dark, meant just for them.

The jeers and cheers faded away– she kept kissing him, and soon he wrapped her up in his arms, tender, like she was so precious, and kissed her back.

"Get a room, you two!" Someone shouted, and that startled Madge, jerking her back just a bit.

"We could just leave," Gale murmured to her, not meaning that they had to go hook-up, necessarily, but they could leave again. Brave the cold. Go walk around in the quiet.

Her eyes shone at him now in happiness. They had always communicated so well (even if what they communicated wasn't particularly nice); she understood what he meant. She looked at the scene before them, and his gaze followed; their friends, warm and happy, and all together.

"Maybe we could stay a little while," she said, slowly unwinding herself from him. "But…" She looked back at him again, and smiled. He could get used to that– Madge Undersee smiling at him.

"Later?" He asked, letting her untangle herself.

She reached over and laced their hands together. "Later," she promised.

And they went to join their friends.


	11. Christmas Eve

_**Day Eleven:** Christmas Eve_

 _A continuation of days two and three. Finally! ;)_

Sunlight, weak and pale, filtered through the blinds of the guest room. Gale groaned, first because he was actually awake, and then because of the memories that came with his consciousness. He had told Madge he _loved_ her– twice. God, how embarrassing. And he was pretty sure her father was present for it as well. His memories weren't the sharpest, so he couldn't recall what her actual response was, but he couldn't, even in his wildest dreams, imagine that it was anything _close_ to what he'd want to hear.

A knock on his door caught him off-guard and Gale cringed, bracing himself for Madge. "Come in," he called, and wondered if he should try getting out of bed. He sat up– nope, not a good idea. The world was slightly off-kilter.

Luckily, it wasn't Madge, but her mother, Meredith. "Hi, Gale," she said with a sunny smile, holding a tray with soup and gatorade. "How are you feeling?"

"Um, dizzy," he gave her a weak smile. "Thank you for having me. I really appreciate it."

Meredith beamed. "Of course! We told Madge not to come home without you. I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances, but I'm glad you're with us. Now, here's some soup and gatorade. Fresh towels are on the dresser, if you want to take a shower. You remember where it is from last time you visited, right? Let me know if you need anything else. Madge is with her father right now, but she'll check on you later, okay?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Undersee," Gale said, giving her a smile. "This is really great of you."

"Anything for Madge's best friend," Meredith said, settling the tray down on his bedside table. She turned to Gale with a sweet smile. "She just adores you, you know," and then, with a wink, "and we know you adore her, too."

Gale could feel his face get hot. _Was it so obvious?_ But– "Yeah," he said truthfully, "I do."

* * *

He wasn't very hungry, but Gale made himself finish the soup and gatorade, and that gave him enough energy to go and shower. When he emerged, he felt a lot more human and decided to venture downstairs.

Meredith was in the kitchen baking and listening to Christmas music, while Madge and her father were decorating the tree. Madge was wearing tinsel like a feather boa and laughing. She brightened even more when she saw him. "Gale!" She took it off and came over to him, assessing. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," Gale said, running a hand through his hair. "Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?"

"I'll go help your mother in the kitchen," Henry Undersee said to his daughter, "and you two finish up here?"

Madge rolled her eyes at her father's meddling, but let him go without comment. She turned to Gale, and sat down on the couch, pulling him down next to her. "Hey," she said, "how are you really feeling? You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Gale rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was pretty rough last night, wasn't I?"

"Oh, yeah," Madge laughed, but she was looking at him intently. "Remember much of it?"

"Yeah," Gale winced, his mind racing, "I do. I, um… didn't offend you, did I?"

Madge couldn't look him in the eye, instead down at her fidgeting hands. Her cheeks were pink. "No," she said quietly, "you didn't. At all."

Gale swallowed, his heart beating faster, "Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah," Madge said. She looked over at him curiously. "Do you… do you remember what I said?"

Gale shook his head. "I don't," he admitted. "I wish I did, though."

"But you remember what you said," she confirmed.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Madge said slowly. "Why don't you… remind me what you said and then I'll tell you what I said?"

"What," Gale smiled, "like a re-enactment?"

"Sure," Madge said. "I can start." She took a deep breath. "Gale. Come on, you need to wake up."

Gale thought for a moment, trying to make sure he remembered correctly. "I'm cold, Madge," he said slowly.

She smiled encouragingly. "I know, love," she said, and his eyes snapped to hers. _I guess he didn't remember that part,_ she thought. "We're going inside now, okay? But you have to help me– I can't carry you."

"Okay," Gale said, and his hand reached for hers. Every line in his face, from his intent gaze to his sweet, small smile, spoke of his affection for her. "I love you."

Madge squeezed his hand, her face breaking out into a wide smile. "I love you, too," she said.

He lit up brighter than any lights on the tree. "Yeah?" He asked, his other hand coming up to cradle her face.

"So much," she murmured, her eyes darting to his lips. "More than you could know."

His eyes lowered, too. "I think I have an idea," he said, and then he kissed her.

The sun had gone down and neither Madge nor Gale had turned on the house lights, so the only thing that lit the room was the soft glow from the Christmas lights on the tree. It was the perfect setting, as he wound his arms around her, pulling her in close, oblivious to everything around them but each other.


	12. Christmas Surprise

_**Day Twelve:** Christmas Surprise_

 _A continuation of yesterday's prompt._

Gale woke up feeling a million times better, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, he could breathe out of his nose; his throat wasn't scratchy and sore; and his body temperature was back to normal. Secondly, he had his arms around his best-friend-turned-girlfriend, snuggled up together under the covers in her bed. The night before, after Madge sheepishly dragged him into the kitchen for dinner, her parents turning knowing, pleased smiles at the sight of their clasped hands; after they watched Christmas movies by the fire, sipping hot cocoa (Madge) and tea with honey (Gale, at Madge's mother's insistence); Madge insisted that he move his things to his room. Gale thought this was a Bad Idea for a multitude of reasons.

"Erm, what will your parents think?" He asked as she slung his duffel bag over her shoulder and went next door to her room to plop it down on top of her dresser.

"My dad already told me last night that he wasn't, and I quote, 'so old-fashioned so old-fashioned that I'd object to you sharing a room with your boyfriend. Better that than having you two sneak around at night.' So you're good there."

"Uhhh," Gale's face reddened. "Okay. But I'm still sick and I don't want to get you sick."

Madge shrugged. "I was in a car with you for several hours, breathing in your germs," she said. "If I'm meant to get sick, I'll get sick. And then it'll be your turn to nurse me back to health, remember?" She turned to him and pouted. "Does this mean you don't want to sleep with me?"

Gale groaned. "You're terrible," he said, referring to her antics. "Of course I want to sleep with my beautiful girlfriend. Don't torture me like this. I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Okay," Madge bit her lip. "Truth? We might need the guest room tomorrow. Some family might be coming in tomorrow, if all works out. It's a bit of a last minute thing."

"Oh," Gale blinked. "Well, why didn't you just say so? You know how I am about being a good house-guest…" Manners drilled into him, he'd also fretted, as they were leaving Gale's apartment, that he hadn't brought any hostess gift with him to give to Madge's mother. Madge had rolled her eyes at him.

"It's fine," Madge said, winding her arms around his waist. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to say that, that my boyfriend would be jumping for joy at the prospect of sleeping with me…"

Gale groaned again. "I have a feeling that I'm not going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope!" Madge said cheerily, pecking him on the cheek and pulling him into the room with her. "You're not."

"Hey," he said, catching her hand. "Do you… is it okay if I give you my present now?" He asked. "I kind of just want it to be us two, and if there will be people around tomorrow…"

Madge nodded with a smile. "That's a great idea, actually," she said. "I only have part of your present today, if that's okay? I'll give you the other half tomorrow, if you don't mind."

Gale shook his head. "You got me two things?" He said. "I only got you one."

"If it makes you feel any better," Madge said, going into her closet to get his gift, "one of them was last minute, and the other thing isn't as good as the other, so it all evens out."

Puzzled, Gale gave her her present, a small black box tied simply with a red ribbon, as she gave him a wrapped present.

They unwrapped at the same time; Madge got him the DVD set of the documentary series he had obsessed over several months before, and sadly, they weren't on Netflix yet.

"This is great!" He said, grinning at her. "Thanks."

Madge made a face. "It's certainly not a romantic gift," she said, "but who was I to know you'd confess your love two days before Christmas?"

Gale rolled his eyes, but gave her a smacking kiss on the lips.

"Although," Madge said, pulling the simple, pretty necklace out of the box with a look of wonder on her face, "it seems like you certainly knew."

"I was hoping that might make it a little obvious," he confessed, "but see, I thought you'd open it and I wouldn't be there, so maybe I'm not as brave as you think."

"It's still pretty darn brave," Madge said, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "Thank you. I love it."

He didn't know about Madge, but he was exhausted, falling asleep almost immediately after they both had situated themselves comfortably in bed. It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed– they had been best friends for years, after all– but they had never cuddled so closely before, and so intentionally.

Gale lifted his head up. He had moved down sometime during the night, and his head was tucked in the curve of Madge's waist, an arm slung around her hips. She was reading– Emma, by Jane Austen, a Madge Undersee Christmas tradition– and when she saw he was up, she smiled. "Hello, sleepy head," she said cheerfully. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better," Gale sighed happily. "What time is it?"

"Hmm, almost ten," Madge said. "You slept really late."

"You could've gone downstairs," Gale said, with a yawn. "I wouldn't have minded."

"You were so comfortable, I didn't want to disturb you," Madge said sweetly. "But now it's time to get up! My dad texted me; everyone will be here soon."

Gale blinked. Usually Madge and her parents just celebrated Christmas on their own; sometimes Madge's aunt and uncle and cousins came, but overall her family, even her extended family, was very small. "Everyone?" He parroted.

"Yep!" Madge said, jostling him as she got out of bed. "Get up! They should be here just in time for Christmas Brunch."

They both showered and dressed (separately, to both Gale and Madge's disappointment,) and Gale was in the shower when he heard, vaguely, the doorbell ring. He let Madge go first, and cursed, but there was nothing to be done for it now, and he got out, trying not to rush as he combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and got dressed.

It was quiet as he came down the stairs, so he figured it was only Madge's aunt and uncle who came, but he stopped in shock in the entrance of the kitchen.

Madge's dad, Henry, and Gale's dad, Asher, were at the stove, Henry flipping pancakes and Asher cooking bacon; Madge's mother, Meredith, was at the table with Gale's mother, Hazelle, drinking coffee and constructing gingerbread houses for the children– Rory, Vick, Posy, and Madge– to decorate, as they sat at the kitchen table, painstakingly frosting and gluing candy pieces on. Madge looked up, noticed him first, and smiled brightly at him. "Surprise! Merry Christmas!"

Gale was floored. "What– I don't–" as his siblings bounded up and tackled him with hugs. "Mom? Dad?"

They beamed at him. "Merry Christmas, Gale!" They chirped.

His mother came forward. "You didn't think we could celebrate Christmas without you, did you?"

"But– how expensive–" Gale sputtered.

"Luckily for us we got traveler's insurance on your ticket," Asher shrugged, turning over bacon duties to Henry to come and hug him. "So one ticket was already paid for. And luckily, your mother and I got good Christmas bonuses this year– and the kids insisted on coming here instead of going on vacation during the summer. So here we are! We coordinated it all with Madge and her parents yesterday," Asher said, and Gale looked on in amazement to Madge.

"When did you do that?" He asked her.

She laughed. "You slept the majority of the day, Gale. It wasn't difficult."

"I can't," he looked around at everyone, and to his horror, felt his throat closing up again, but this time not due to being sick. "I can't thank you all enough."

"It's Christmas," Madge said simply. "You don't have to." And then she got up and led him to the table to help them finish decorating their gingerbread village.

"This is the best Christmas ever," he told her quietly. "And if this is part two of my present, I think you won this year."

"Nah," Madge said, smiling, "we both did."

 _Merry Christmas, all! :) Thank you Belle453, Hawtsee, NurseKelly, Estrunk, and everyone else who constantly reviewed these little stories! I had so much fun writing them. Have a great day!_


End file.
